


another trip around the sun

by shirohyasha



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Tipsy sex?, aw yea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 09:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22013557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirohyasha/pseuds/shirohyasha
Summary: Ren brings Masato a bottle of wine for his birthday. Actually, he brings two, but they never make it to the second one.
Relationships: Hijirikawa Masato/Jinguuji Ren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	another trip around the sun

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY THE LOVE OF MY FUCKING LIFE

“I brought wine,” Ren says when Masato answers the door.

“Hello, Jinguji,” Masato says. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Masato, darling, love of my life,” Ren says. “My heart aches every moment I am away from you, and I am overjoyed to see you. Also, I brought wine.”

“Thank you,” Masato says. Ren only buys expensive wine, imported from France or Spain, and it’s always good.

“Happy birthday,” Ren says, and hands him a gift bag with the bottle in it. “Actually, I brought two bottles, because it’s your birthday.”

Masato sighs, but there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’re trying to get me drunk,” he accuses.

“I was going to make sure you were very aware of what I was doing before I started,” Ren promises. “So. Wine?”

They settle on Masato’s couch, which is one of the austere-looking ones that are actually really comfortable. Masato puts his feet in Ren’s lap, and Ren strokes his ankles idly while they drink their wine. The radio is playing softly from the kitchen, the lights are low, and the wine is rich and bitter and heavy.

“It’s been a while since dinner,” Masato says. “Perhaps we should have eaten.”

Ren laughs. “We’re alright,” he says. They’re drinking from regular glasses, because Masato doesn’t drink enough wine to justify having wine glasses. “Here. More.”

Masato sighs, but holds his glass out for Ren to refill. “We have work tomorrow,” he reminds him.

“We have work tomorrow afternoon,” Ren points out. “We don’t actually have to drink the other bottle. We can save it.”

“I don’t know if I need another bottle,” Masato says. “I’m a little lightheaded.”

Ren laughs, and pours him some more wine. “Me too,” he admits. “Wanna make out?”

“Ren,” Masato sighs. “Our glasses are full.”

“Mm,” Ren says, shifts Masato’s feet off his lap so he can sprawl out on top of him. “We can drink between rounds.”

“Incorrigible,” Masato sighs fondly, and leans in carefully to press a chaste kiss to Ren’s lips.

Ren grins. “Very much so,” he says, and leans in to mouth at Masato’s neck when Masato lifts his glass to his lips instead of kissing him again.

They lie there like that for a while, trading careful kisses between sips of wine, Masato’s hand on the small of Ren’s back, Ren’s fingers dancing on the bit of exposed skin at Masato’s hip, where his shirt has ridden up.

“Mm. How much have we had?” Masato asks, and turns his head lazily to see the bottle has less than a quarter left in it, and that Ren has finished his glass.

“Not much,” Ren says, leaning down to set his glass on the floor. His head spins with the movement and he giggles. “Ah. A bit more than that.”

Masato laughs. “You do tend to overestimate yourself,” he says, and drains the last of his own glass. Ren leans in and kisses at his collarbones, sloppy and messy, working his way up Masato’s neck.

“You’d better be rid of that glass when I get up there,” he mumbles somewhere into Masato’s jaw, and Masato laughs.

“It’s long gone,” Masato teases. “Come here.”

Ren groans. “You’re terrible,” he says, scrapes his teeth along the line of Masato’s jaw and mouths up his chin to reach his lips. “Can we make out yet?”

Masato sighs. “What do you call this?” he asks.

“Necking,” Ren says brightly. Masato’s eyelid twitches.

“Please,” Masato says. “Shut up.”

Ren laughs and leans in to kiss Masato, opens his mouth and can’t help but beam when Masato’s opens too. He pushes his hand up Masato’s shirt, pulls himself up so he can lie directly on top of him, can press him into the sofa.

“Mm,” Masato hums. “Move – like this,” he says, puts a hand on Ren’s hip and the other on his waist to guide him to where he wants. Ren happily settles atop Masato and groans when Masato’s hand tangles in his hair, makes a fist at the base of his skull. Masato tugs gently, and Ren moves and tilts his head back so Masato can kiss his throat.

“We should move,” Masato says.

“This is fun,” Ren protests.

Masato narrows his eyes. “I’m trapped,” he says.

“Yes,” Ren says, grinning wider when Masato pulls his hair. “Mm. We can move. In a minute.”

He leans back in to kiss Masato, spreads his legs so one drops between Masato’s thighs, pushes his hand back up Masato’s shirt to feel the soft expanse of his chest. Masato groans.

“This is coercion,” he pants.

“This is _fun_ ,” Ren corrects. “I know you know what fun is.”

Masato pulls his hair again, which is a stupid deterrent because Ren likes it when Masato is mean.

“I like you when you’re mean,” he tells Masato, who sighs fondly.

“You always like me,” he says. “That’s why this works.”

Ren grins. “Should we move?” he asks. “I think we should move.”

He leans back, and Masato sits up. He’s dishevelled, but not _that_ dishevelled. His hair is a little wild and his shirt is untucked and his cheeks are flushed and his mouth is cherry-red, but he’s not nearly as messy as Ren wants him before he gets him out of his clothes.

“Hm,” he says, and instead of standing up he drags Masato into his lap and kisses him again.

Masato groans into his mouth. “I thought we were moving,” he says, but he does kiss Ren back.

“We have moved,” Ren points out. He pulls at Masato’s buttons, grinning proudly when the top three pop open.

“This position is even less opportune,” Masato says, and Ren laughs at that.

“Yeah, if we don’t want to get off grinding like a pair of horny teenagers,” he says. “I know you’re too much of a clean freak for that.”

He leans in. He can’t leave a bruise, but he can probably get away with making pink marks all up Masato’s pretty throat. Masato looks good covered in bites.

“You’re terrible,” Masato groans as Ren’s teeth close on him. “You’d leave me looking I had been mauled by a wild animal if you could.”

“Nothing so savage,” Ren murmurs. Masato’s skin is flushed already, pink and hot and damp with sweat. Ren likes how he tastes. “I just like seeing what I’ve done.”

He pulls back, leans in to kiss Masato, chases him when Masato pulls away.

“Come back,” he whines.

“Move,” Masato tells him. “You know I’m right.”

Ren groans. “Alright, alright,” he says. “We’re bringing the wine.”

Masato considers that. “Alright,” he allows. “It would be a shame not to finish the bottle.”

They stumble from the sofa. Ren catches the bottle in one hand, and Masato grabs a glass, and they trip over the coffee table and stumble into the wall by the door, so of course Ren pulls Masato to him and kisses him with his back to the wall. Masato kisses him hard, presses his tongue past Ren’s lips and Ren moans with it, slides his tongue against Masato’s weakly and sags against the wall.

“There,” Masato murmurs. “It’s not so hard to behave.”

“You’re dangerous,” Ren gasps. “It’s a good thing you’re so proper. I’d lose my mind if you ever did something sexy onstage.”

Masato smiles. “Bedroom,” he says.

“Yeah, okay,” Ren pants. “I’m coming.”

They make it into Masato’s bedroom and collapse into his bed. Masato holds out his glass and Ren pours the last of the wine into it, before discarding the bottle.

“Cheers,” Masato murmurs. “To my birthday.”

“To you,” Ren says. Masato smiles and drinks the wine, and Ren watches his throat work as he swallows.

Masato leans against the headboard, so Ren curls up beside him, almost on top of him but not quite, and kisses at the skin he can get to while Masato drinks the wine. The shell of his ear, his collarbones, the top of his chest. He gets a hand up to undo more buttons, exposes as much of Masato’s chest as he can without making him move.

Masato meets his eyes, a challenge almost, so Ren grins and kisses the middle of his chest, rolls to kneel between his legs.

“It is my birthday,” Masato says, almost drawls, and Ren smiles and ducks his head.

“You don’t need to invoke that card to get me to blow you,” Ren says.

Masato smiles. “I know,” he says. “Do it anyway.”

Ren takes the glass from him and drinks half of what’s left before leaning in to kiss the skin below his navel. Masato’s stomach quivers beneath his touch, soft and lean and Ren adores him so much his head is spinning.

He undoes Masato’s belt, works his trousers off of him. He knows he shouldn’t – he knows he _can’t_ but he wants to bite, he wants to bite so badly. Masato bruises like a peach. It takes barely a hint of pressure to leave marks on him.

He kisses instead, soft and hot, nips gently when he dares. Masato watches him, amused by all of this, and Ren grins at him and drags his hands down to open Masato’s thighs.

He licks at the head of Masato’s cock, wraps his lips around it and moans, reaches up to cup him, to curl his palm around the base of his cock. Masato shudders at the touch but doesn’t react otherwise, so Ren takes more of him, swallows down as far as he can, until his forehead is pressed to Masato’s stomach and Masato’s hand comes to rest on his head.

“Ren,” he gasps, a low moan, and Ren hums and swallows and pulls back all in one movement, moves his hands to pin Masato’s hips to the bed so Masato has to pull his hair if he wants him to move.

He swallows around Masato, bobs his head and curls his fingers into his skin, into his nerves, and Masato shakes apart beneath him.

“Ren,” Masato gasps. “Ren! Not like this.”

Ren pulls back. “I wanted to swallow,” he says. His voice is _fucked._

Masato groans. “No,” he gasps. “I want – take me,” he says, and spreads his legs wider even than Ren had pushed them.

Heat courses through Ren, and he thinks it would barely take the pressure of Masato’s bedsheets beneath his cock for him to come in that moment.

“Yeah,” Ren moans. “Anything, fuck.”

He gets a hand between Masato’s legs, fingers wet with spit already, massages a circle into his opening. “I need,” he gasps. “Something, anything, whatever lube you’ve got.”

“Use your mouth,” Masato orders him, drunk on wine and lust and power, so Ren leans in and licks him open, forces his tongue into him until Masato cries out, squirming against Ren’s hands pinning him down still.

“Roll over,” Ren groans.

“No,” Masato pants, hauls himself upright and pushes Ren onto his back, and Ren goes eagerly, hands reaching for Masato as he sits over his face. Ren eats him out like that, moaning into Masato, head empty of all thoughts but those of Masato, his thighs around his head and his ass grinding down onto him, desperately chasing pleasure.

“Ren,” Masato nearly sobs. “You – _Ren._ ”

Ren would be happy to stay there until he suffocated, until Masato came, as long as Masato wanted him to, but Masato pulls away before that.

“Lube,” he pants, and Ren lies there dazed for a moment before the word registers.

“Yeah,” he manages, sits up and scrambles for the bedside drawer where there should be some. He grabs it, slicks his shaking fingers and Masato kneels with his legs spread, leant up against him so Ren can reach down behind him and slide his fingers into him.

“You’re so hot, fuck, Masato,” Ren babbles. “You’re perfect, _fuck._ ”

Masato groans, bites his shoulder and holds on until he’s used to two fingers. “Enough,” he pants. “Enough, Ren.”

“Okay,” Ren says, eases his fingers out and is far too weak to resist when Masato pushes him onto his back. “Okay, like this.”

Masato straddles him, pours out more lube all over his hand and wraps it around Ren’s cock. It’s enough to make Ren cry out, moaning. He grabs at Masato’s hips, strains to arch into him so Masato twists his hand.

“Hold still,” he pants. “Ren. Still.”

Ren shakes with the effort of holding still but finally he’s inside Masato, finally Masato has sunk all the way onto him and Ren sits upright and bucks up into him.

“Masa,” he gasps. “Fucking move.”

“Bossy,” Masato says. “I thought – ah – this was my birthday present.”

Ren moans. “Come on, Masato,” he groans. “Don’t you want it?”

He gets a hand between them and wraps it around Masato’s cock, thumbs under the head and Masato cries out, jerks into it and Ren fucks up into him at the same moment, and then neither of them can hold still.

They move against each other, grinding and fucking into each other, Masato slamming down hard enough against Ren to give them both bruises. Ren gets a hand in the longer part of Masato’s hair and yanks his head back, bites down on his throat hard enough that Masato half-shouts, pushes him flat to the bed and holds him there.

Ren comes first and Masato doesn’t stop, rides Ren until Ren is twitching and moaning with overstimulation, and only then does he come, leaves a streak of white across Ren's chest.

Ren wheezes. “You’re ruthless,” he gasps.

“You’re difficult,” Masato tells him. “If that bruised, I’ll be very cross.”

Ren wraps his arms around Masato, holding him close. “You’re welcome to bruise me up too.”

Masato huffs a laugh. “Careful,” he says. “I might hold you to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> hbd masato i love you for your birthday i got you dicked down


End file.
